For this weekend, I’ve decided to do a prompt from WordPress’s Daily Post. It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these; plus, I’m not in the mood to write about books and reading. I guess one could say my post is late since the prompt I’ve selected was for Thursday, April 28.
This weekend’s topic and Daily Post prompt:
I crave solitude.
Though I sometimes get lonely, I’m never alone. Someone is always near, here, annoying loving yapping laughing giving sighing. Here.
I think it’s weird that I crave to be alone. It’s not that I want to shun the love and warmth I continually receive from my family. Neither is it that I want to push away those who care for me. I do not like to be lonely. I just want a place of my own and to live on my own, alone, to see what it’s like. It’s something I’ve wanted since I first had to share a room, since forever.
I reside in a lively home, peaceful though it may be. Those words contrast — lively and peaceful — but my home is indeed both. It’s lively because there’s never a dull moment when my parents are about. They are such opposites. My mother is vivacious, boisterous. Her voice booms when she utters a sound and it travels through all the rooms in our home. She is life. The knell that causes us phlegmatic ones to rise and move. My father is cool. Relaxed. Unfazed and unswayed by everything unless it’s football (soccer) or my mom. I take after him. So too my brother. We take things in their stride and aren’t easily flustered. It takes a lot to rile us up. In that way, it’s peaceful here. It’s quiet, sometimes, and relaxing. Some find it a reprieve when they visit. Peaceful but with enough life to not make it dull.
But sometimes the energy sways too much one way or the other. Like when distant relations stop by. It often results in a cacophony where everyone talks at once, TVs blare, radios stutter with static, and laughter rises and falls as sweet humor flows about the home. I enjoy those moments. I cherish such time spent with family. But even then, I wish for a place of my own. A place to retire to when all is done. Someplace small that fits my bed and bookshelves and a desk to sit at. Someplace quiet so I can think but allows for those moments when my emotions rise and all I want to do is blare my music, dance, and sing at the top of my lungs. Someplace that’s mine.
What I’m reading this weekend:
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. I’d like to read something else but for now, Jane Eyre has my attention and I can’t pull away from it. I’m supposed to be reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince but I’m not interested in Harry’s obsession with Draco at moment. And I borrowed The Martian by Andy Weir from the library but, though it has its funny moments, the technical bits are putting me to sleep. I have other books from the library, some kids’ books with lots of pictures, I might read one of those as a break from Jane Eyre.